


Tousling

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Inspired by Fanart, POV Molly Hooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:29:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4854716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly loves Sherlock, she does, but there’s one thing he does that she can’t stand, and that’s tousling her hair as a sign of affection. And one evening, she’s had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tousling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rebka18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebka18/gifts).



> So this is another fic inspired by [**rebka18**](http://rebka18.tumblr.com/post/126849070827/some-sherlolly-hair-ruffle-for-all-so-this-is-my)'s fanart. This time it's inspired by her first comic! I have a miniturized version below but the full size panel can be found at her Tumblr at the link above (please go visit and give it lots of love and likes and reblogs). I enjoyed writing this so much because the comic is so cute and adorable. I'm so glad she drew it!
> 
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> 

There was quite a bit she loved and adored about Sherlock. There was a lot more that she loved about him than she didn’t, and she was quite thankful for that. She remembered the way he used to be, when he was cold and aloof and uncaring, and she saw how he had changed with his friendship with John and with Greg and with her, and how he had blossomed even more when he admitted his feelings towards her, and the caring and affectionate man he was now was so wonderful that she had almost no complaints.

_Almost._

He had one habit that she found to be rather…well, annoying was the best word. In the privacy of their flat it was one thing, but he had the habit of doing it in public, too, and she just wanted to smack his hands away. He hated it when it was done to him so why on earth would he think she would like it when he did it to her? And yet he did it all the same and _oh_ , how she wanted him to just _stop_. Running his fingers through her hair she loved. Absently twirling various strands around his fingers were fine. On the rare occasions she could convince him to, having him wash it for her was absolutely heavenly. Giving her a scalp massage? Oh, she adored that.

But ruffling her hair?

That was annoying as all get out.

She didn’t know why he liked doing it. It just seemed such a non-romantic gesture. It seemed like something you would do to a younger sibling or a really good friend, not your significant other. And he did it no matter how much care she had put into her appearance. She could have worked for ages on curling her hair perfectly and making sure every strand was perfectly in place and he’d just reach over and ruffle it without a care and it’d all be ruined. And she was sure he didn’t mean to, that he was only being affectionate, but she wasn’t sure how to tell him she didn’t like it.

They were at her flat tonight, getting ready for bed. He was ruminating on a case and she was at the vanity, combing her hair out. It was best if she did it at night because she always managed to have fewer knots in the morning that way. Sherlock was pacing around at the foot of her bed, talking more to himself to her, and she was only half listening. And then something he said caught her attention and she set her comb down, getting out of her chair and standing in front of him. “Sherlock, say that again?”

He stopped just before he collided into her, blinking. “I said that she was wearing three and a half inch tall heels at the time of her murder.”

“Then it couldn’t have been Hamilton who shot her, because if she had on three and a half inch heels then she’d have been too tall for the trajectory to be right,” Molly said. “She’d have been at level footing with him and the bullet had a downward trajectory. The killer was taller than her. Hamilton’s short for a man.”

His eyes got wide and then a wide smile crossed his face. He reached over and tousled her hair and then patted her head before kissing her cheek. “I need to call Geoff,” he said. She gaped for a moment and then glared, and before she could stop herself she reached up and tousled his own hair, shaking his head around a bit as she did. When she lowered her hands she gave him a satisfied and, dare she say, rather smug look while he glared. “What was that for?”

“Not so pleasant, is it?” she asked, keeping the smug look on her face.

“Not when you shake my head around like that, no,” he said. “What’s so wrong with me ruffling your hair? It’s a sign of affection. I thought you liked it when I was affectionate.”

“Sherlock, I love you, I do, but I absolutely _hate_ it when you ruffle my hair,” she said. “My hair doesn’t like cooperating at the best of times and then you ruffle it and it looks like I’m a wild woman from the moors. I mean, I _just_ got done combing it and I bet I look a right mess. Do I, Sherlock?”

“Well…” he said apprehensively.

“See? So please, stop doing it. Or every time you do it to _me_ , I’ll do it to _you_. And I won’t care where we are. At Barts, at a crime scene, in front of friends, in front of your family…”

His eyes went wide. “My brother would never let me live it down,” he said.

“Then stop, and he won’t ever have to see it,” she said, moving her hands so they rested on his chest. “Agreed?”

He sighed. “Agreed,” he said.

She moved her hands up as she stepped closer. “Now, I think this is the type of agreement we should seal with a proper kiss. Not any of this kisses on the cheek or forehead nonsense.” 

He moved his hands to her hair and she raised an eyebrow but he only tangled his fingers in it as he leaned in more. “I suppose my phone call can wait,” he said with a grin.

“How long can it wait?” she asked, framing his face.

“At least an hour or so,” he said. “You might even be able to convince me to wait until morning.”

“Then I’ll just try very, very hard to do that, then,” she murmured before she kissed him. He kept his hands in her hair for a moment before moving them to her face and then her shoulders, and finally lower. When he pulled her close against him she got the feeling it would not be terribly hard to convince him that the phone call to Lestrade could indeed be put off until morning after all.


End file.
